


easier said than done

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Communication, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: Who could have known that wearing a strap-on for the first time would feel sostrange?She could have known, Ella reminds herself. She could have known, if she had done some research first.(or, Ella's first time using a strap-on on Maze doesn't go quite as planned.)
Relationships: Ella Lopez/Mazikeen
Comments: 12
Kudos: 62





	easier said than done

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for Nanowrimo 2019. this could be read as a companion of sorts to [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24237196) but can also be read as a standalone.

Ella has always had a thing for research. 

In elementary school, science fair had been one of her favorite times of the year, because it gave her an excuse to lose herself in books for hours at a time. If there was something that she was curious about, she would find as much information as she could about it. When she grew up, losing hours in the library turned into losing hours on Wikipedia, starting out with one topic in mind and ending up somewhere only tangentially related to where she started. 

When she first started sleeping with Maze (the culmination of a chain of events that she _still_ can’t quite comprehend), she had thought about doing some research – she’d done a few Google searches, opened some articles in different tabs, but after staring at them for what felt like an eternity, she’d closed her laptop. 

For starters, she was pretty sure that no matter how many articles she read or how much time she spent trawling the internet, she wasn’t going to be sufficiently prepared. Articles may have helped sufficiently prepare her for how to handle certain parts of Maze’s anatomy (she’d experimented in college, sure, but she didn’t want to let those few experiences be her only guidelines), but they weren’t going to help her handle the fact that she was sleeping with an actual _demon_. 

(Okay, maybe she _could_ have found articles about that, if she’d gone digging on some Catholic websites that were less than reputable, but she didn’t think they’d be helpful, seeing as the end goal of those articles was probably to make her _stop_ wanting to sleep with a demon, which is not something she planned on doing anytime soon.)

Besides that, she didn’t want to ruin the moment, didn’t want to lose herself by focusing on ‘proper’ technique and body language. She wanted things to happen organically. 

There was also the fact that in the past, if her research had been directed towards a skill that included some kind of practical application (say, lock picking, or boosting a car), while the background research had helped, getting her hands dirty (so to speak) had been immensely more valuable. 

So, even when the thought that she was very possibly in over her head had been difficult to silence, she decided not to do any further research. She let Maze be her teacher (and what a damn good teacher she had been). She tried to let her body take the wheel, tried to focus on what felt good and right, and not what felt _correct_. 

But now, at this moment in time, Ella can’t help but think that maybe some research, even just a little bit, wouldn’t have been a totally bad thing. 

They’re in her own apartment, which is in itself a rarity (normally, they take advantage of both the fact that Chloe is seemingly always at Lucifer’s and the fact that Maze’s bed is bigger and more comfortable). The lights are down low, the door is closed so that her cat can’t wander in and disturb them, and the open window is letting in the soundscape of Los Angeles, the clamor of honking horns and driving wind (they’re due for a storm tonight), the latter bringing with it the smell of someone cooking something delicious nearby. It’s a lot to block out, but Ella is doing her absolute best to do exactly that, because the task at hand is proving to be a little more difficult than she expected when Maze proposed it.

(Meaning that Maze had simply pulled it out of her bag, raised an eyebrow, and then tossed it at Ella, all in the span of a few seconds.) 

Seriously, who could have known that wearing a strap-on for the first time would feel so _strange_? 

(She could have known, she reminds herself. She could have known, if she had done some research first.) 

After all, it’s not the first time they’ve involved one in their sex life; it’s one of Maze’s favorite things to reach for, and Ella would be lying if she said she wasn’t a fan (although she’s had to veto some of the toys Maze has in her collection for being _way_ too terrifying). But, while Ella’s recollections are understandably clouded with arousal, Maze has _never_ seemed to have any trouble wrangling a strap-on, whether that’s the process of getting it on or the process of using it. 

Ella, on the other hand, isn’t sure if she’s even going to be able to get to the latter. 

For starters, the straps are horribly itchy where they’re cinched around her waist and her thighs. She can already tell that, when she starts moving with any real sense of vigor (and if she wants to impress Maze, she’s going to have to be _very_ vigorous), that itch is going to blossom into full-blown irritation, which may very well turn into a rash. Beyond that, she’s fairly certain that the straps are going to get in the way. Because she had to tighten them to their maximum setting in order to get a half-decent fit, the ends of them are dangling loose, smacking her in the legs every time she shifts. 

She’s willing to concede that these issues are probably due to the specific harness. Minimal research aside, she knows from talking to some of her friends that there are other types of harnesses, ones that look more like boxer briefs, that would probably fit her frame better. To the best of her knowledge, Maze doesn’t have one of those; all of the ones that she’s tested out on Ella so far have been the strappy kind. 

But, even with a different harness, Ella isn’t sure that all of her current issues would be put to bed, because, harness aside, the dildo itself _also_ feels strange. 

At the very least, it looks and feels nice. The soft silicone is striped with the colors of a vibrant rainbow. When Ella had tentatively run her hand down, fingers loosely cupping around it (which had been a strange motion all on its own, a strange motion that had, nevertheless, made liquid heat flare and pool between her legs), the material was pleasant to touch, smooth and free of jags or bumps. 

(Ella isn’t totally opposed to the realism thing, but again, some of the dildos that Maze has shown her are frighteningly realistic, the veins mapped out and exaggerated in such detail that Ella half expects blood to be flowing through them.)

So it’s not that she has a problem with the particular dildo. It’s just that she’s never experienced having an offshoot of her body like this. 

But, perhaps even stranger than feeling this new, additional part of her, is that she _can’t_ feel part of it. It’s going to be difficult for her to know if she’s doing well, if she’s moving hard enough or fast enough or if she’s doing some kind of strange angle, without asking Maze directly or studying her body language intently, because she won’t be able to feel what she’s actually doing. 

She’s overthinking it – she knows that. But there are so many elements _to_ think about. So many aspects to consider. So many things to ponder. 

At the very least, the thrusting part should be pretty straightforward. She’s watched enough porn and had enough sex that she thinks she should be able to imitate that part fairly well. 

It’s just all the other stuff that she isn’t sure about. 

“Hey,” Maze says, abruptly snapping her fingers in front of Ella’s eyes and pulling her back to the present. “You still with me?” 

Ella snaps her gaze up from where the dildo is swaying between her hips to Maze. The fact that Ella was able to lose herself into her own thoughts so deeply despite the sight in front of her only speaks to the depth of her anxiety. Maze is sprawled back against her pillows, pastel-pink sheets askew and tousled underneath her, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. She’s still wearing a leather bustier, black with blood red accents, and there’s a matching choker around her neck, but she’s wearing absolutely nothing below the waist, boots and pants and underwear discarded and forgotten on Ella’s plush, lavender floor rug. Her legs are splayed apart, strong thighs braced on either side of Ella’s hips, and she’s glistening wet. Arching one scarred eyebrow, she settles back further into the pillows and folds her arms behind her head, looking like she’s settling in for an afternoon nap. 

“I’m waiting,” she says pointedly, glancing down at the dildo, the barest hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. 

Ella thinks about making a snappy retort, something about how, since Maze teases her and strings her along and makes her wait all the damn time, it’s only fair that Ella give her a little of her own medicine. But she’s pretty sure that her anxiety will take any actual snap out of whatever she says, so instead, she takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Sorry,” she apologizes. To ground herself back into the moment, to try and quiet her insecurities and anxieties, she drops her fingers to the inside of Maze’s thigh and drags them up until her fingertips brush over dark curls, stuck together with arousal. Maze makes a quiet sound in the back of her throat, something like a pleased hum, and her legs sprawl apart even further. One of her heels nudges the back of Ella’s thigh, like she’s trying to tug her closer. 

With a breath, Ella grabs the bottle of lube that’s half-buried in the sheets. Squirting some into her palm, momentarily alarmed by how cold it is, she starts working her hand over the dildo again, until it’s as gleaming as Maze is, glossy underneath the warm light of her bedside lamp. She takes another deep breath as she finishes up, wiping the sticky remnants on her own thigh, underneath where the harness strap is swaying back and forth. 

She has done hundreds of things scarier than this. She can look at a dead body without flinching. She can stare the devil himself in the eye without feeling anything more alarming than fond annoyance. Just going into work every day, never knowing what might await her there, is scarier than this.

Goddamn it, she can _do_ this, and she can do it _well_. 

Shuffling forward on her knees, sheets bunching underneath her, she takes hold of the base of the dildo, steadying it so that she feels like she has _some_ kind of control over it. After glancing up at Maze’s face and being met with a look of total anticipation (and perhaps a little exasperation – Maze has come a long way in the last few months, but she still hasn’t totally gotten the hang of patience), she guides the head of the dildo towards Maze’s core. It slips in easily, and Maze lets out a breath that almost sounds _relieved_. 

“Finally,” she mutters, one arm slipping out from underneath her head, fingers lightly curling into the sheets. Her hips arch away from the mattress, and Ella slides deeper into her body. She already feels a little off balance; it feels like she’s leaning too far forward, and simultaneously, it doesn’t feel like she’s low enough to thrust properly; it feels like she might topple over if she even tries. Trying to make it look casual, and not like she’s frantically overthinking everything, she moves her knees back and braces her hands on either side of Maze’s body for stability. It helps her feel a little more confident, so, keeping her eyes on Maze’s face (but looking away often enough so that it isn’t totally creepy or unnerving or weird), she starts thrusting. 

And it is fucking _difficult_.

Almost as soon as she begins, she realizes that this is not going to be as easy as she hoped. Just as she’d had nothing to compare the feeling of the dildo to, she has nothing to compare thrusting to. When she’s been in Maze’s position in the past, she’s rolled her hips down or pushed her hips back, which is sort of similar in theory, but in practice, it’s wildly different. It feels totally awkward. When Maze starts arching up into her, it feels even stranger, because while it is absolutely hot as hell and makes Ella feel a little better about her incompetency, it also throws off what little rhythm she’s managed to establish. 

Not to mention the fact that she has _no idea_ what to do with her hands. Keeping them planted firmly on the bed helps her feel stable, but it also kind of makes her feel like a robot. It feels incredibly impersonal, not touching Maze anywhere, especially since she isn’t kissing her either. She doesn’t trust herself to even try that; she’d probably end up sprawling face first in Maze’s chest like a goofy teenage boy, which isn’t exactly the vibe she’s trying to give off. 

In addition to all of that, her stomach is kind of starting to hurt. For a moment, she thinks that it might just be the anxiety, combined with the heavy dinner that they had, but eventually, she realizes that it’s actually a familiar feeling, one she’s experienced before after a particularly heavy workout session. 

It’s her abs. They’re already in discomfort, and she feels like they’ve barely gotten started. Maze is probably nowhere near coming, and Ella has already fucked this up royally. 

It’s only when she feels Maze’s fingers gently brush over her face that Ella realizes she’s come to a complete stop between Maze’s legs. Immediately, her cheeks heat up like a furnace. 

If Lucifer ever finds out about this, she’s going to simply die on the spot. 

“You’re distracted. What’s wrong with you?” Maze asks. It’s a little blunter than a human might ask, but Ella can see that there is genuine concern behind the words, present in the slight furrow of Maze’s brow as she pushes a piece of sweaty hair away from Ella’s cheek. 

(Which, when did she get so damn sweaty? She feels like she needs to jump in the shower, although that is partially because it would also give her a place to hide from the sheer mortification of this moment, or at least give her some time in order to deal with this.

Although, unless she stayed in there for over a day, she doesn’t think that would be enough time.

Maybe she should ask about switching to another precinct. Maze would definitely find her within a week, but at least it would give her more time.) 

“I’m not distracted,” Ella responds, hating how defensive the words sound. “It’s not that.” 

“What is it then? You’re not enjoying this. You haven’t moaned once.” 

“I _want_ to enjoy it!” Ella protests. With a sigh, she leans back and slides out of Maze with a slight wet sound. She glances down at the dildo only briefly; while the sight of the wet surface does stir a weak fire between her own legs, seeing it jutting out in front of her almost comically makes her feel even more ridiculous. Instead, she directs her gaze to a slightly discolored spot on her headboard, to the right of Maze’s head, so that she can both give Maze attention and save herself from the humiliation of direct eye contact. “I want this, I really do. It’s just…” Playing over the words that she wants to say, she realizes how pathetic they’re going to sound, but there’s no better way to say them, so she surges on ahead. “I had no idea this was going to be so difficult.” 

A frown stretches across Maze’s face. “Didn’t think what was going to be so difficult?” 

If it was anyone else, Ella would think that they were being deliberately obtuse, but considering that Maze has no problems speaking her mind, even at inappropriate times, she knows that she genuinely doesn’t understand. And the thing is, Ella _gets_ what Maze doesn’t understand. Maze is supernaturally skilled, after all, imbued with incredible reflexes and strength. Her muscles barely ever get sore. She probably never feels awkward moving around in her daily life, let alone in the bedroom. Having sex probably comes naturally to her. 

She doesn’t have to work at it like a human. 

“I mean, this,” Ella says, waving down at the harness and the dildo. “The whole… the _thrusting_ part. I’ve never done anything like it. It feels weird, and I feel super awkward, and I _can’t_ get out of my own head. And I know this doesn’t feel good for you, and-“ 

Maze lays one finger across Ella’s lips, and Ella trails off in the middle of what she now recognizes was gearing up to be a world class ramble. 

“It’s fine, Ella. I forget, sometimes, that you’re so new to this, that you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I mean, I know a little bit,” Ella interrupts, even though it is probably a half-truth at best, at least in this specific context. “I’m sorry about ruining the moment.” 

“You didn’t ruin it. But I have an idea.” 

“Oh?” Ella asks. Maze’s mouth turns up into something that blurs the line between a smirk and a grin, and another barb of arousal, a little stronger than the last, floods into Ella’s core.

Curling her long fingers around Ella’s hips, eyes dropping to the slick dildo, Maze whispers, “Get onto your back.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” Ella repeats, feeling considerably less lost this time. She scrambles to comply, moves as close to the wall as she can, so that Maze has room to maneuver as well, and drops onto her back hard enough to make the headboard smack into the wall. She shuffles backwards until she hits the pillows, so that she can sit up at more of a forty-five degree angle, and watches eagerly as Maze throws one of her long legs over Ella’s hips. The head of the dildo brushes over Maze’s clit, and Maze’s grin grows a little sharper, a little more predatory, as she makes herself comfortable on top of Ella. 

“It might be easier for you like this,” she says before, with no other preamble, she sinks down with a satisfied groan. 

For the first time in several minutes, Ella stops thinking. 

In most respects, Maze is right – having Maze on top of her means that Ella can plant her feet into the mattress and use that as leverage to thrust up. She’s still not great at setting up a rhythm, especially not one that matches Maze’s speed, but she can at least _try_. Not to mention, now that she’s not trying to focus desperately on doing seventeen different things at once, she can actually put some effort into touching Maze. As an added bonus, now that she’s not buried in her own thoughts, she can actually _enjoy_ herself, and the coals of arousal between her legs build up into a fire that’s almost reached breaking point by the time Maze comes with a deep, shuddering moan. For a fraction of a second, the illusion over her face falls away, just long enough for Ella to glimpse scarred skin and a flash of teeth. 

After a few moments, Maze’s eyes slowly flick open, and she leans forward, until her forehead is braced against Ella’s, surrounding both of them with her dark hair. 

“How are you feeling?” Maze asks. It feels like kind of an absurd question for her to be asking, considering that she’s the one who just came, but Ella appreciates her checking in. 

Maze has come a long way since they first met. 

“Pretty damn good,” Ella answers honestly. When she shifts slightly, a twinge of pain shoots through her abs, and she feels her face crease into a wince. “For the most part at least. Abs are a little sore.”

“I think I can distract you from that,” Maze replies, leaning back on her knees. As her nimble fingers start tugging at the straps around Ella’s waist, she glances back up for affirmation. “If you’re interested, of course.” 

Despite the twinges of pain in her abs and the irritation on her skin that she can feel now that Maze is loosening the straps, Ella nods rapidly. 

She is very, _very_ interested. 

By the time Maze sits back up from between Ella’s legs, the entire lower half of her face slicked with come and arousal, Ella has not only forgotten about the pain in her abs, she’s almost forgotten about how embarrassing the first part of the night was. 

( _Almost._ )

&.

The next day at work, Ella has a little bit of downtime between two meetings, and after only a moment of hesitation, she decides to take full advantage of it.

Time to do some research. 

After glancing through the slatted blinds of her lab, which are open halfway, and confirming that no one is on their way over, she turns back to her laptop and starts typing rapidly. Soon, she has six different tabs open, all of them related to how to best use a strap-on. 

She’s not stupid – she knows that she isn’t going to become an expert just through reading, but at the very least, the next time the opportunity arises, she can be a _little_ more prepared. 

She’s finished reading and bookmarking one article, which had some pointers and tips that seem quite useful, when she hears an all too familiar chuckle over her left shoulder, despite the fact she never heard the door open. 

“Why, Ms. Lopez! If you’re looking for tips about _that_ kind of thing, you only need to ask!” 

Ella groans and slaps her laptop shut. 

Tempting as Lucifer’s offer might be, she’ll resume her research later, when he is far, far away, and she can take her notes in peace.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
